Turnings
by onlyfrequency
Summary: She seemed much smaller like this, even smaller and further away than she had ever been in the Fourth division. But then her eyes caught his, and that small, meek and feeble smile slipped out and all his worries disappeared.


**Disclaimer;** Don't own Bleach. I think you know that by now.

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She smiled, that sad, tired little thing. "If there's one person I can count on to do it, it's you. So please-"_

He wasn't the only one watching nervously. All the assembled captains watched her carefully, and not a one would say they didn't wish to tear that cloak from her shoulders, not when they saw how heavily it seemed to weigh on her, drag her down, forced her to bow her head in the most subservient of manners. But she had insisted, had proven. _No one else can lead them without knowing them. The Fifth cannot have another captain that doesn't accept them as they are._ Strong words and stronger power had backed her up. He'd given his consent willingly in the face of that, and in the face of her bankai; a fearsome, powerful, beautiful thing that surprised them in it's ferocity and had yet remained undeniably Hinamori's.

He wished he hadn't. She seemed much smaller like this, even smaller and further away than she had ever been in the Fourth division. But then her eyes caught his, and that small, meek and feeble smile slipped out and all his worries disappeared.

_"You have to promise me you won't ever say it."_

She walked silently, slowly back to the Fifth after the ceremony, ignoring stares and whispered words. She was still a liability to some, unstable, a variable. They weren't sure if she'd break, and if she did, what direction she would go in.

Hinamori let them talk.

Words were words, and she had learned to move beyond them. She had learned to move beyond trusting appearences, smiles, concerned glances, all of it. And none of it, her fists clenching as someone muttered a little too loudly.

But the chill that settled into the air reminded them that she had captain support, and not just that but influential captain support, a nearly unanimous decision. Kenpachi had refused since she seemed cowardly and hated fighting, and Mayuri would have rather had her to study the effects of her delusion; both caused by Aizen and herself. But they had been overruled by the rest. Hitsugaya walked behind her, the distance enough that she'd be alone, but near enough to talk if she wanted to.

She didn't.

But she paused at the door to his - _her_ - the Fifth division office, a shaky hand reaching out to slid it open. The light shone in, but she couldn't move beyond. This was the dangerous part, a test that was already tiring her.

The fourth seat of her division appeared then, bowed respectivly and his voice shook in admiration and nervousness. "H-Hinamori-taichou, the paperwork is still in my office. Do you want me to-"

He was cut off by her glance, and he was almost afraid he'd caused her to cry. But that smile slipped out again and she nodded. "I would appreciate it if you brought it here for me. I'll get started right away." His shaky yet relieved smile in response caught in her mind as he raced away to do so, and she turned her attention to Hitsugaya, hands falling to clutch at Tobiume. _Here goes nothing_. Two steps took her into the office, and another seven carried her to the center of the room.

Hitsugaya waited outside, watching as she glanced around the familiar room, eyes clouded with memories both bitter and sweet.

The grip on Tobiume was loosened as she brought a hand up, eyes diverted to the floor. But the kidou's aim was true, fearsome and bright in it's intent, and the desk before her shattered, splintered, burned and was destroyed. The fourth seat was back in a second, with him the third and seventh, both looking curiously at their captain with intent to run and get Unohana. She simply turned back to them, smiled meekly. "I'm sorry. Can you see to it I get another desk? That one just won't do."

He smirked, her three officers glancing at each other, somewhat dumbfounded. It was just a desk to them, but Hitsugaya understood her intention. And he was impressed, too, her title not just there for show, the force of her reiatsu in that split second not even her full power but still enough to alert a good portion of Seireitei. The kidou had only damaged the desk itself, none of the surrounding area. Not even the floor was scorched. When they ran to see to her request, she stepped out of the room, unable to raise her head to look at him.

"Feel better for that?"

She smiled, that sad, tired little thing. "If there's one person I can count on to do it, it's you. So please-" Her hand raised, fell back to her side without really reaching out to him, but he caught it and held it for her. A silent urge to say what she needed; anything, anything at all and he'd do it.

"You have to promise me you won't ever say it." He remembered the way she had tensed at Yamamoto's utterence of her new title, the way it had made her seem even smaller and even smaller. The more she heard it the more she seemed to fall under the weight of the white cloak on her shoulders. Hitsugaya just smiled the smile only she saw, tugged on her hand to get her to follow him as he headed to his division. She could stay there until she got her new desk.

"As long as you stop calling me Shirou-chan, I'll conveniently forget your post."

She smiled again, this time wider, happier, honestly glad. "But I couldn't do that, Shirou-chan!" the old nickname falling easily from her mouth, just like the giggles that followed it.

He grunted, the start of a smirk pulling at his mouth. "Well then, bed wetter Momo. I suppose neither of us is really a captain to the other."

Hitsugaya could honestly care less, just glad to hear her enraged squeak, look at her flustered face. He hadn't called her that in ages but it still had the desired effect. And he wasn't so sure he minded as she responded with her own, "at least I'm still taller than you, Shirou-chan!"

It was just nice to hear her laughing, and the Fifth division couldn't help but agree.


End file.
